Thursday, March 30, 2017

Throwback Thursday: Forced Autonomy Phase 2

I’d been away for a week,
concreting myself in Colorado, the furthest I’d allow myself to travel from
camp. The heart of the city of Pueblo was silent and unbeating. For seven days
straight, I’d perched atop the Wells Fargo Bank building, shielding myself from
the blaring sun with the ugliest fishing hat I’d ever seen—but I’d found it
near a creek once and it fit the bill. It even smelled like fish.

Scanning the crowd, I saw none
of the anomalies I was looking for, and decided, by the glare of the two
o’clock showing sun, that I wanted to go back home. I wanted to go back to
Petra. And if Odin even quivered a sinister muscle in her direction, I’d take
him out. I swore it to myself. He was a leader only in name and he’d royally
pissed me off.

I’d convinced myself she was just
another girl, just another grainer I’d picked up on the way. She was nothing
special. She was nothing to put my head through the guillotine over. And then
thirty seconds later, all of those thoughts were retracted. I’d told her
goodbye in my own way. While she soundly slept, I kissed her forehead and spoke
to her so many things I wanted her to know.

What kind of asshole threatens a girl he supposedly values?

Because that’s how he spoke of her—like she was a prized 4-H heifer, not
someone he cared about.

Odin had pulled me aside after
I’d returned from hunting. He’d told me I was no good for her and that the only
reason he’d taken me into the group was to pick up those who fit in with us,
not to find a girlfriend or compromise his plans. He’d alluded to telling her
about my criminal past which I didn’t even know he knew about. At first I’d
fronted him, butted him, chest to chest, and demanded to know what business of
his it was. I’d demanded to know what the hell his problem was. He never did
answer my inquiry. Instead, he’d gotten in my face and with spittle stringing
out in webs from his mouth, and threatened to hurt her if I didn’t begin to
spend more time travelling than I did hanging around.

What would happen if I’d just
beaten him to the punch and told her myself.

I could’ve done that. I
should’ve done that.

We all had a past, right?

Right?

Shit.

Letting out a tempered sigh, I
stood up from my haunches and lifted my bag, preparing to leave the city and
return to camp and to Petra. I hadn’t spotted any anomalies in the crowds—only
zombies. Even before Petra, the numbers of real people had dwindled. I’d only
picked up maybe three in the past six months. I really didn’t think there were
any more out there.

I looked out one more time into
the ants just to make sure I hadn’t missed anyone. It was feeding time. The
almost brain dead citizens lined up for their bowls of gruel. I couldn’t help
but mentally compare it to those old starving children commercials. They used
to line those children up in droves and feed them milky grains and call it
proper nutrition for our monthly contribution of only thirty dollars. Now
Africans and Haitians ate like the once rich and famous.

“Hands in the air, subject.”

DoubleShit.

I raised my hands in the air
slowly, closing my eyes and counting to ten. If I was going to get out of this,
I had to think slowly, move fast and then run like hell.

“Follow me, or I will shoot,”
his almost computer generated voice commanded.

I was off my game. I usually
could predict where and when the Pinocchios would show up. I needed rest. I
needed more than stale bread and smoked venison.

I took three side steps in his
direction and it threw him off. Most people simply froze in the presence of a
firearm. But I wasn’t going down like this.

Hell no—not me.

“Halt, subject.”

“No.”

Crouching on the hot roof, my
palms flattened on the ground, I swiped one foot into his legs at the point
where his calves met his ankles and he toppled over; no instinct to defensively
respond. The only thing they had were their guns. I heard the crack of his
helmet as it hit the hardened asphalt. That was my cue to run. Strapping my
pack on to my back tighter, I ran for the nearest exit, grabbed the sides of
the long ladder hanging from the edge of the building once used as a fire
escape, and slid down, no time or patience for the rungs. Ignoring the sting of
burning rash left by the heated railings, I dashed towards the mountainous area
outside of the city. I needed to get home. I’d considered it the day before, but
the tanks entering the city had piqued my interest and I’d had to investigate
the source of their invitation. However, they’d vanished into an underground
parking garage which was secured after they passed through.

Finally reaching the truck on
the other side of the hill, I tossed my bag in the back and gunned it headed south.

About Me

I am the Young Adult author of both contemporary, dystopian, and paranormal teen romances. My books include the Love and Skate Series, the Bayou Bear Chronicles, The Lightning Series, AnguiSH, Seeking Havok and Sparrows For Free.

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For more information about me or my books and ways to contact me visit: www.lilafelix.com